


Vestigial

by Ten_ways_to_spoil_dinner



Category: Metroid Series
Genre: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-11-23 08:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11398404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ten_ways_to_spoil_dinner/pseuds/Ten_ways_to_spoil_dinner
Summary: The aftermath of the BSL incident is nothing more than a brief respite. With danger looming ahead, Samus must confront the repercussions of the Chozo's scientific meddling as the Federation is teetering on the brink of self-destruction. Samus is a pawn to their political machinations and their collusion may cost the galaxy everything.





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Other M is only half-canon for this story. Events similar to Other M have transpired, but the specifics have been changed to comply with the needs of this story. Also the game handled story poorly, so I'd like to envision something better.
> 
> As a secondary note, given the Metroid series relatively small list of characters and the large scope of this story, expect a fair amount of original characters. Don't worry, Samus is the main focus of the story and other canon characters will be present where possible.

**Chapter One: Aftermath**

_Do not worry. One of them will understand. One of them must._

The words echoed in Samus' mind as she laid on the examination table. Despite Adam's certainty, Samus hesitated to place that much trust in the Galactic Federation's bureaucracy. Their laws and bylaws, their rulings and precedents, and worst of all their pencil pushers.

It was only hours after the collision of the BSL station and SR388 that her ship had been picked up by a Galactic Federation Starship, the _Poseidon_. The destruction of a planet doesn't go unnoticed by the galactic government, nor the destruction of a research vessel filled with biological weapons.

“Look directly at the light,” said the doctor, clad in the same bright shade of white as the walls and medical equipment. Samus complied with minor discomfort. “There we go. Now, before we begin , I'd like to bring up your medical history. I want to make sure everything is accurate.”

_One of them must._

“Go ahead,” she responded after a moment of silence. Her attention remained focused on Adam, or rather the artificial intelligence based on Adam's mind. She wasn't sure how to feel now. She had Adam, in some sense, back in her life. His death several years ago was a turning point in her young life. Now it was almost as if that had never happened. But it had. The real Adam was still dead, replaced by a simulation.

_Do not worry. One of them will understand._

The doctor rattled off a list of injuries. They were mostly those acquired on the job, broken bones and lacerations, a concussion or two, nothing she couldn't handle. “-minor permanent discoloration of the skin along your right forearm down to your hand, blue and black streaks-” A reminder of the Phazon poisoning she suffered years prior. “-scarring along your back, centered largely around your lumbar region-” And a reminder of her last encounter with Ridley. The real Ridley. Not the X-Parasite's hellish revival. The Ridley she fought on Zebes. “-internal organ damage, infertility-” Samus' mouth flickered into a frown for but a moment.

“Strange. Is the latter related to the internal organ damage?” the doctor asked nonchalantly. “It doesn't state a cause in your file.”

“It won't.” Samus was blunt in her response. “It's not related to an injury or any other medical condition.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” the doctor stated in a defiant tone. “Given your medical history, you're lucky to be breathing. There isn't an injury from A-to-Z that you haven't sustained. And if what I'm reading here is correct, you've undergone an experimental medical procedure recently?”

_Do not worry._

“I was infected with a parasite while on mission to SR388. They injected me with an antidote made from the cells of the parasite's lone predator. That has nothing to do with the rest of my medical background.” She was becoming agitated by this line of questioning.

“As a doctor, I need to understand my patient's condition to give them proper medical care. You've just returned from a very dangerous mission, Miss Aran. I want to ensure that you get proper help.” The doctor smiled, his glasses sliding ever so slightly down his slim nose. “If there's something that could help me treat you properly, you should tell me.”

Samus made a grunt of disapproval. “The infertility is due to my Chozo heritage. It isn't in the medical file because I petitioned for it to be removed years ago.”

The doctor frowned. “That isn't something you can just do.”

“It is when you know the right people.” Samus took a deep breath.

“It's nothing you need to worry about, Doctor _._ The Chozo made me this way. If it were an issue, we would know already, and I don't think there is anything the Federation could do to save me at that point.” The Chozo had been far ahead of any other civilization in terms of medical technology. Their understanding of biological life was astounding. It was that prowess that allowed Samus to survive on Zebes as a child, by infusing her with their blood. Even if it came with side effects, it allowed her to thrive.

“Very well.” The doctor relented. “Everything in the file is correct, however?” Samus nodded. “Then I'll begin a standard treatment. One SynthiGel injection and you'll be ready to go.” Samus winced at the word injection. Despite her numerous battle scars, it wasn't the Space Pirates that got to her. It was getting her shots. The doctor reached into a drawer and pulled a small blue vial and a syringe.

_Do not worry._

Samus didn't look as he prepared the shot, preferring to take a few breaths in preparation. The alcohol on her skin was cold, and perhaps because of the Metroid vaccine burned her far more than it had any right to. A silver lining to this was that her focus on the burn distracted her from the pinching sensation of the needle.

_Do not worry._

Samus grunted from displeasure as she felt the SynthiGel working its way through her veins. A recent medical technology breakthrough, SynthiGel acted as a foam-like substance that sought out internal injuries and closed them. If this breakthrough had been discovered a few years earlier, it might have saved her some trouble. If there were no internal injuries, the foam would dissipate within hours.

“You don't appear to have any recent external injuries, no lacerations or bruising. Are you having any discomfort, or unusual symptoms?” the doctor asked as he pulled the syringe out of her arm and covered the hole with gauze.

“Nothing unusual.” She lied. There was a burning sensation at eye level. That damn light.

The Doctor took a step back, looking at the computer pad on the counter. “If that's the case, I don't believe there are any major issues for you to worry about at the moment. For someone as, well, _experienced_ as yourself you're in remarkable shape.” He traced his finger along the pad. “I'm going to refer you to a specialist, however. While I may be an expert on physical wounds, I am not a psychiatrist and can't properly treat any mental anguish you may have suffered on this excursion. And given your particular background and the nature of-”

Samus cut him off. “I don't need to see a shrink.”

It was the doctor's turn to be curt. “This is not up for discussion, Miss Aran. You were ordered to come see me by-”

And once again, Samus cut him off. “Yes, I know. And I know I am required to follow your instructions, up to and including going to a psychiatrist. I am telling you now that I do not need one. I have been to a psychiatrist. I have been to several, in fact.”

_One of them will understand._

“There is nothing new about my situation that can be discussed. I haven't had an episode or a panic attack in years.” Samus' cheeks were tinged with red at this point. “This mission hasn't changed that.”

The doctor tapped his fingers rhythmically on the counter. He did so for several seconds. Samus found it irritating.

“Very well,” he finally said. “I will not recommend you go to a psychiatrist. That being said, I cannot imagine how well that will go over with the tribunal. Wouldn't you prefer getting a professional to say that you were mentally sound when you wiped SR388 from the star charts?”

Samus pursed her lips and for a moment looked away from the bright light and directly at the doctor. “You may be right, but I'm willing to take that chance.” The doctor said nothing in response and simply signed his name on the pad.

* * *

 

Samus paced down the gray corridors of the GFS _Poseidon_ , quietly formulating her plan as she made her way to the bridge. It wouldn't be long before the Federation charged her with something. She needed to find a lawyer, a good one, and with the money she collected as a bounty hunter that would be easy. She had a few on standby from the last time she blew up a planet.

The parallels between this situation and her final excursion to Zebes were almost too surreal for her to grasp. The reality had only just struck her that not one, but two planets that were home to the Chozo were now gone. A sad irony for the people who saved her from the destruction of her own home. She balled her fist, swallowing her guilt for later, and turned her attention instead to the group of armored marines marching toward her in formation.

Behind the ice-blue visors were some of the best trained soldiers the Galactic Federation had to muster. Samus had fought alongside men just like these for years in the Space Pirate wars. They were well-disciplined, hardy soldiers.

“I don't believe it, Samus freaking Aran!” one of the marines blurted out. Without her suit's intercom his voice sounded muffled, but his bewildered tone carried through. “You're actually here! I thought the boys were messing with me.” His head turned to the marines standing on either side of him. “Chucklenuts one and two, show this woman some damn respect.” The marines gave Samus a brief salute. The seeming leader of the pack turned his attention back to Samus. “Don't mind them, they're shy around celebrities.”

Samus was accustomed to these reactions from soldiers. Some treated her as if she were a part of the military still. It wasn't just respect, it was admiration. Samus never received this treatment when she was in the Galactic Police, but then again she hadn't destroyed countless Space Pirate operations then.

“Easy, boys.” Samus raised her palm and faintly smiled. “I'm not a celebrity.” She watched as the soldiers slowly lowered their arms and relaxed their posture, even if only a little. Samus used this chance to change the conversation. “Would any of you happen to know the quickest route to the bridge? I'm looking for the ship captain.”

“The bridge?” The marines became rigid and raised their hands to their head at the sound of an Irish-accented voice coming from behind Samus. Samus recognized it immediately and spun around to find Colonel Mullan standing there, hands behind his back as he looked through Samus to the men now behind her. “I don't suppose the three of you would, would you?” His words spoke of contempt for the marines, but his tone was neutral. He was being playful, in his own way. “At ease, men.”

“Colonel Mullan, you're here?” Samus asked. This was not a development she had expected. Colonel Eugene Mullan was one of the highest ranking officials in the Galactic military. He had spearheaded several assaults on Pirate vessels and bases, and was in his own right a war hero. Despite this, Samus took a personal disliking for the man. They were ideological antitheses. He was among the many reasons she did not stay with the Galactic Police when she was a young woman.

“Given the circumstances, I requested that I personally see to it that you came to Daiban.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “In fact it's fortunate that I found you. You're looking for Captain Nakahara, yes?”

Samus didn't understand the point of asking a question he knew the answer to but she nodded. He seemed pleased by this and responded by directing the marines to go about their duties.

“Follow me, Aran. Nakahara is currently waiting for us in his quarters.” Samus followed behind at a distance, her mind now formulating a plan on how to deal with the coming interrogation. Mullan could be a brutal man.

_One of them will understand._

No, they won't, Samus chided herself. Mullan most assuredly would not understand.

 


	2. No Quarter

**Chapter Two: No Quarter**

_Bzzt._

Catherine Favreau's eyes snapped open at the distinct sound of her personal pager going off. Short, loud buzzes coming from the nightstand. She rose from her slumber and swung her legs to the side of her bed, reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the small, circular device.

"MESSAGE RECEIVED: INON."

The words scrolled across the screen, five characters visible at a time. She scowled and stood up on her hardwood floor, flicked her finger against the small central screen, and read the text that formed in the one foot wide holographic projection. Her scowl deepened in frustration.

"Catherine,

Call me. Samus has been picked up. This isn't good.

-Inon of Dath"

Inon was not one to mince words. Catherine understood this and understood the gravity of this situation. She slid her finger sideways along the hologram, browsing the user interface until she found the call feature, then sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Despite its importance, she refused to call Inon this early in the morning – she looked to the clock and saw it was 6:23 A.M. standard federation time – without first having a cup of coffee.

With the pager in hand, Catherine made her way through her condominium; it was a small yet lavish apartment in the Ascent District of Daiban's capital city, Remdan. She placed the pager on the granite counter of her kitchen, the cozy corner of her home composed solely of this counter; a small, fully stocked fridge; a box-like machine that acted as her coffee maker; and a rarely used stove. Despite the size of her kitchen, she adorned it with decoration as much as she had the rest of her apartment. It had a modest flair. Hanging fruit baskets, potted plants, just the basics. She picked a banana off the basket above the counter and pressed select buttons on the coffee maker, its whirring now the only sound in her quiet morning.

_Bzt._

That was until the pager reminded her of its existence. She gave it a quick look, the same words scrolling along the screen. Learn some patience, she thought, I'll call you in a minute. She ignored the hypocrisy of this sentiment. It was her that had asked Inon to keep her updated on the Samus Aran situation in the first place.

She peeled the banana as she eyed the coffee maker, intent on ignoring the buzz. She then moved her attention to the refrigerator. She opened it, and it was full of vegetables and meat cramped together along with half-eaten leftovers. She reached into the back of the fridge, grabbing a thin, long, violet bottle. With some struggle she managed to pull it out.

"A little kick for my coffee," she mused to herself. The coffee maker beeped, signaling that it was ready. Heavy on sugar and cream and with just a dash of bourbon.

_Bzt._

This time she responded to the pager, reaching over with one hand as the other poured from the bottle into her cup. She placed the bottle on the counter and navigated the pager's interface once more, finding the call button and tapping it. The dial rang for a moment, long enough for Catherine to sip her morning coffee. It was strong and sweet.

"Catherine." Inon's synthesized voice began before the projection had popped out. It formed moments after, showing him to be a curiously shaped, vaguely humanoid robot. His head was long and cylindrical with two short slits that glowed faintly red. He spoke through the speaker on what appeared to be his chin. He looked like the crude building of an amateur engineer. In truth, he was a sentient creation, built by one of the member species of the Federation for the sole purpose of representing them in the galactic government.

Inon was the only non-organic member of the Galactic Council, chosen for his position because of his unique talents and curious disposition. Specifically, he was in charge of systems management of the Central Galactic Network. This made him an indispensable ally to have.

"Inon, give me all the information you can on the Samus case," Catherine said, cutting to the heart of this call. "I want everything."

The hologram was stoic and unmoving. "I am able to tell you that Samus was picked up in sector SRQ3 by the GFS _Poseidon_ eight hours and twenty-three minutes ago. I cannot tell you anymore."

Catherine furrowed her brows at this. "You're a member of the council. You're in charge of system management. What do you mean you can't tell me?"

"You are a member of the council, and yet you require me to tell you. I cannot tell you."

Inon's voice couldn't simulate tone, but Catherine felt a sense of irony coming from the droid. She took another sip of her coffee before saying, "So, Holland's pet is on board." She placed the cup on the counter. "He's trying to keep me out of the loop. You can't tell me because this is a matter of galactic defense and that's Holland's jurisdiction."

"I cannot confirm or deny that."

Catherine realized this was why Inon called her. He couldn't directly tell her anything, but his inability to answer made things very clear. "Mullan thinks he's playing three dimensional chess. He's playing checkers."

Inon's head tilted up at the mention of Mullan. "Colonel Mullan's favorability rating has surged 2.3 percent in a recent Galactic Gazette poll of pledged delegates. Your lead has shrunk by an overall 3.1 percent in the past three weeks. At this rate you'll lose by 0.4 percent. You do not want that."

Catherine took another sip from her coffee. It was too early to talk politics. "Right. Probably going to use this against me. Last time she blew up a planet I was the deciding vote to acquit her on all charges, so now he'll say I'm allowing a loose cannon to destroy Federation property. Next it could be your planet, or your planet, or _your_ planet!" She mocked Mullan's mannerisms, reaching her arms behind her back and locking them together. She smiled and laughed, then pointed her finger at Inon. "You know he will."

Inon was silent for several moments. "Councilwoman Favreau, it is unwise to be inebriated this early in the day."

Catherine snapped to attention and placed her hands on her hips. "I'm fine, tin man. I can hold my liquor." She looked over at the violet bottle. "But I think I'll make a fresh cup of coffee after this call is over." She leaned on the counter and looked out to her living room, the large glass window the only two inches of laser-proof material separating her from the Galactic Federation capital. "Samus will be planetside today, right?" She doubted he could even answer that.

"She will arrive today. I cannot tell you which port she will arrive at or when, but a ship of the _Poseidon's_ size would likely be at-"

"Damn it, on the other side of town. I'll have to send someone." She laid her head on her open palm.

"Is that wise, Catherine? Samus will be closely guarded," Inon asked.

"We need to know what she knows. Off the record as soon as possible. It'll be at least a week before an actual trial begins, and at least another week of deliberations, and that'll be just before the election." Catherine raised her head and planted both hands onto the counter. "Mullan's hoping I make a mistake that costs me everything. I need to turn this around on him."

"Very well, Catherine. I will continue to monitor the situation." Inon's eyes lit up briefly, brightly shining in the hologram. "Interesting."

"What is it?" Catherine asked.

"The _Poseidon's_ projected time of arrival has sped up. It appears you will want to be getting ready. I will have to be going. Do be safe, Catherine."

The hologram dissipated as Inon exited the call. Catherine brushed her fingers against the counter, running along the edges of her cup. She gripped it tightly, then released it. There was no time to waste, she had to prepare.

* * *

Samus sat with her back against the cold, steel wall of the cramped bunk room provided for her. One leg dangled off the edge of the cot, foot grazing the floor as she kept the other leg pressed closed against her chest, arms wrapped around it and her head bent down. Her breathing was steady, but it was heavy.

" _Miss Aran, I don't know what you think you saw on that space station, but everything on board was the legal property of Biologic, and as a federal subsidiary the destruction of that property is the destruction of government property."_

Her breathing became haggard, and she shut her eyes tight. Her hair, untied, clumped together and stuck to her wet, stained cheeks.

" _You can't be serious. The X Parasites were replicating! They would have killed anyone sent to retrieve them and spread throughout the galaxy, can't you see that?"_

" _The Federation Military is not incompetent. If the X were a threat, we would have destroyed the space station."_

Samus pressed her lips together, her face now scrunched up in an anxious wave of heat and pain. Her skin flushed, tears rolling along her cheeks and dropping down onto her leg. She rolled over to her side, half on the bed, half dangling off the edge. Her breathing reached a fevered pitch, growing deeper, louder, and pained as her chest seemed to tighten. Samus focused on this to control her panicked state.

" _If you become a threat, we'll do the same."_

A sharp gasp perforated her clenched lips, and she curled into a ball. She was like this for several minutes, hands clasped into fists. It was not the first time she had to fight her body. Despite her years of training, both physical and mental, she was human. There were techniques she learned to combat the psychological trauma she suffered over the years, but they were temporary fixes: bandages over broken bones and scar tissue. The only thing she could do in this moment was relent, letting the pain pass as she told herself that this would soon be over. Her mind recovered before her body every time, and so she had to play a prisoner, trapped in the heaving mess that was Samus Aran.

She regained control of her body, enough that she could sit upright. She was still breathing erratically, but it had slowed. Her stomach churned, and the feeling of sickness rose through her body, followed by shame. The great huntress, the one who dismantled the Space Pirate armada, could not even control her own body. She swept her matted hair out of her face, wiping away the sweat, tears and dirt that had accumulated on her body in the past 48 hours. She hadn't even had the chance yet to shower. The closest she had to cleaning was the standard quarantine when she first landed on the ship. She was still caked in dirt and felt gross.

She stood, legs wobbling as she walked towards the door. The ship would be docked within an hour. There was enough time to clean up. She was the galaxy's savior; she had to look the part; act the part. If she couldn't respond to this situation without having an emotional breakdown, she wouldn't be able to save anyone from the Federation's dangerous fascination with Metroids.

The GFS _Poseidon_ was an Olympus-Class battleship, capable of long-term flights across the galaxy. Because it was a military ship, and because of its size, this meant that the showers were communal. Samus wasn't comfortable with this fact. The trek to the showers was brief and no one said anything to Samus on her way there, but the glances they shot to her were visceral. Every detail on her face was the antitheses of what the galaxy imagined when they heard her name. Despite her outwards stoicism, the red cheeks and puffy eyes were clear signs that this was a facade.

The shower room was large and square with white-tiled walls and floor. More importantly, it was empty. Samus was quick to find the corner of the room, far from the shower's entrance and hidden from immediate view. She turned the faucet to its highest heat setting, but was met with cold water.

"Damnit," she muttered to herself as she sidestepped the rushing water. She was unprepared for the sudden drop in body temperature and winced, wrapping her arms around herself and attempting to get some friction.

The shower warmed up and Samus stepped under the running water. The feeling of elation was immediate. She ran her fingers down through her hair, twirling it around her fingers as she let out a long sigh. Her chest felt almost hollow. Perhaps it was just compared to how tight it was minutes ago.

Samus craned her neck and felt the water's tingle as it drizzled down her body. The coolest droplets of water had a mild effect on her sensory systems. It was more of a tickle than a burn, but it was something she was unaccustomed to. Another symptom of her new Metroid DNA, she supposed.

As she relaxed in the shower, Samus' thoughts pulled themselves towards the Federation and their misdeeds. What had transpired on the BSL was not the first instance of Samus catching the Federation working on biological weapons. She knew it was unavoidable that a governing body would do wrong. With trillions of people in the galaxy, and billions of people governing, it was inevitable that there would be some evil. There were lines, though. Metroids were that line.

Samus placed her hand under the shampoo dispenser, then lathered her hair with the seafoam colored gel. As she washed her hair, the black and blue scarring along her arm passed her eyes. The remnants of her Phazon corruption. Her skin was discolored with streaks running like veins down her forearm. This was the price she paid to protect the galaxy. It was only a matter of time before she would need to pay a steeper price.

When Samus turned the water off, she felt clean and refreshed. No longer covered in grime, she put on a clean pair of blue pants and matching top. Unlike her Zero Suit, which conformed to her body, this clothing was loose fitting, more relaxed. She wanted to at least attempt to blend in once the ship landed.

The halls were abuzz with activity as Samus made her way back to her bunk. The ship was nearing Daiban, with re-entry only minutes away. Engineers and other non-combat staff paced the halls quickly, attuned to their tasks and paying Samus no mind. Marines simply stood at attention. Samus was unsure of how long this ship would be docked on Daiban, but judging from the marines she assumed not long. In her experience, they were much more upbeat when they had free time on the ground.

As she made her way through the corridor to her room, she noted two Marines stationed outside of her room. They weren't there before and Samus could feel her heartbeat quickening. As she neared, one took a step forward, facing Samus and stating in a calm voice, "Miss Aran, we were assigned to escort you to the surface by Captain Nakahara." He paused for a moment, before adding, "To ensure your safety, ma'am."

Safety was not an issue, this Samus knew. Daiban was the most secure point in Federation territory, perhaps even the Galaxy. Still, she didn't want to question them. "Alright. I'll grab my things and we can go." She waved at the guard to let her by, making sure to close the door behind her when she entered the bunk. Underneath the cot was a small luggage suitcase, provided to her when she was given the room. It was puke green, not Samus' favorite color, but it was just large enough to fit the few belongings Samus had on her.

She placed the suitcase on the cot and unzipped the front end, pulling out a small, clamshell portable computer. She opened it and looked to the door to confirm it was shut entirely. She wouldn't have long before the marines got suspicious, so she had to act quickly. "Adam?" she whispered. A program opened on the screen and text appeared, typed out in quick succession.

" _It is unwise that we speak so soon, Lady._ "

Samus half-smiled. Even if it was text and it was typed by a simulation of the real man, she cherished the chance to have Adam call her Lady. It was a reminder of her time serving under the man in the Federation Police Force. "I know." She continued to speak in a hushed tone. "We're almost planetside. As soon as I can get you into something bigger, I will."

" _It won't be as easy as plugging me into a wall socket. You will need to retrieve the rest of my programming."_

Samus nodded. "That'll be the hard part." She set the compact machine on the cot and rummaged through the suitcase. She furrowed her brows, then pulled out her emergency laser pistol. The Captain allowed her to carry it on board, which surprised Samus when she first came onto the ship. It was likely because she hadn't been formally arrested. Legally, she was still just a citizen of the Federation. She placed the pistol back in suitcase, then grabbed the compact. "Adam, I'm going to put you away for now. We have to get going. We'll talk as soon as possible. Any objections, Adam?"

" _None, Samus._ "

She closed the compact, and as she was placing it into the suitcase there came a knock on the door. Samus grabbed the handle of the suitcase and walked to the door, opening it much to the surprise of the marine. "Sorry, I wanted to make sure everything was there. I just got out of the shower. Feel a bit uneasy leaving things alone." This was only partly a lie. She did feel uneasy leaving her belongings when this ship had people that were out for her blood.

"Alright, Ma'am. The ship is about to enter Daiban's airspace. Follow me." The marine turned around and began to walk, followed closely by Samus, who was in turn followed closely by the other marine.

They marched at a brisk pace through the ship, passing several window panes. Samus peered out into the star-speckled ink of space and saw the encroaching blue-silver ball of Daiban. She took a deep breath and remembered what Adam had told her after the BSL station collided with SR388.

_One of them will understand. One of them must._

She was able to watch as the _Poseidon_ neared the spaceport, a colossal disk shaped facility that hanged high above Daiban's stratosphere. It was the largest port of its kind in the federation, nicknamed humorously Damocles, which included several docking bays for Olympus-Class ships. It was a well-fortified fortress. Surrounding the port was the myriad of spaceships, both military and commercial, that flew to and fro between the planet and the rest of the galaxy. While not every ship was required to dock at the Damocles – Hunter-class gunships and other small vessels could land on the planet directly – it was required that any vessel containing commercial cargo be checked in. The bounties that Samus handled were classified as commercial cargo.

The three were unable to watch the Poseidon dock as they had reached the pressure cabin, a small enclosed room designed to adjust the pressure levels between the inside of the ship and the outside. There was a noticeable, yet subtle, shift in gravity as the three made their way past the pressure cabin through to the Damocles' gate . Samus' shoulders felt lighter and her stance and gait adjusted accordingly, allowing her to move with more ease.

The Damocles' quarantine check was standard, a routine Samus was now facing for the second time in the past 24 hours. One of the marines entered first, standing in the center of the chamber, being sprayed with chemicals designed to neutralize any harmful pathogens, and passing through without any hassle. Simple and fast, and then it was Samus' turn. She made sure to take note of the officers standing on the other side of the glass. There were three, all fixated on the computer screens that displayed her status. Samus stepped forward in an attempt to catch their attention. Their eyes remained focused on the screen.

"Hello? Are we done?"

This was taking longer than it normally did. It was as she stood there, face inches away from the quarantine glass, that one of them looked up and calmly spoke, "DNA scans identify you as Samus Aran. Is this correct?"

Samus let out a sharp breath. "Yes." This was where it began, she realized.

"We have to report that we have received a warrant for your arrest. Will you comply?"

The other officers seemed disinterested in this exchange As Samus faced the single officer, she placed her hands on her hips. It was an attempt to seem confident. "Yes, I comply."

The officer seemed almost unsure of how to respond. "In compliance with Federation law, you will need to hand over any weapons in your possession. You will also-"

"I understand my rights and I know the guidelines I need to comply with." Samus cut off the officer. "I've had to read them myself more than a few times."

The officer seemed confused, or possibly offended, by the interruption. The officers beside him seemed to be preoccupying themselves with the computer screens so as to not be further involved in this fracas. "Understood," he finally replied. "Then please step out of the quarantine."

Samus did as she was told, letting one of the Marine officers that had escorted her take his turn. As soon as she had stepped out of the quarantine, the officer stepped away from his computer. He glared at Samus. "Are there any items on your person that we must be aware of? I will remind you that your luggage will be checked at security either way."

Samus nodded and opened her suitcase, then handed the emergency pistol over to the officer. Though she hated to part with it, Samus understood that she wasn't truly defenseless. They would only be able to confiscate things that they could physically detect. Samus' power suit was currently immaterial.

"Hands forward. Now." She raised her hands, expecting him to put handcuffs on her. He turned to the other officers and beckoned one forward, who carried with them a smooth, gray device. It opened up with a click and was clamped down around Samus' right wrist. It lit up with a bright green light and a loud beep.

Samus stared at the bracelet for several seconds, perplexed by the object. She had seen these before, even had a few of her bounties where them, but she had never worn one before. She ran her fingers along it and found it was smooth, with two small buttons along the bottom. If one looked closely at them, they read, "Accept" and "Decline".

"Just a tracker?"

The man cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head. "What? Do you not know your rights?" he asked. The sarcasm was not appreciated given the seriousness of Samus' curiosity.

"House arrest is a little light for what I've done. I'm not complaining. Just, you know, curious why I'm not being thrown in a cell."

The man shrugged, turned away from Samus, and returned to the computer screen to let the Marine pass. Then he said, "Lady, I don't care what you did. Just don't leave the planet or break the law. Got it?"

Not wanting to spoil the moment, Samus didn't reply. An officer had begun to speak to one of the marines in a hushed manner. Although she was tempted to eavesdrop, the other marine was standing nearby, facing Samus directly. The conversation lasted for several minutes, and the marine seemed agitated by something. His voice started to raise above a whisper but Samus was unable to make out anything useful. They stopped speaking, and the marine walked over to Samus.

"Ma'am."

He gestured for her to follow and began to move ahead through the foyer, a multi-floored, concentric room at the heart of the spaceport. At the center of the foyer was the port's direct link to the surface of Daiban: The Light Cable System. The LCS was a relatively new technology first implemented in the Damocles. It was based on designs from various Federation species' technologies. One of the largest contributors were the Luminoth, who had similar technology on their homeworld of Aether, which Samus had experienced firsthand when she visited six years earlier. It would allow the users to travel via a beam of light from one destination to another. In the Federation, it was mostly used for tourism.

Samus would have spent more time marveling the LCS if she had had the freedom. It was a very complex system but to the average onlooker appeared as simply a large cobalt-tiled circle roped off from the rest of the room. Only so many people could be transported at one time and only at designated times. There was a complex system that handled the whos and whens. It reminded her of the Chozo. Simply designed with an inner complexity. Given the Luminoth's history as students of the Chozo, and their involvement with the creation of the LCS, it was as if the Chozo had lived on in the Federation.

Samus cut herself away from that thought as they neared security. There was a moderately long line, and she expected they would need to wait for at least half an hour.

"You ever come through here before?" Samus asked her escorts, breaking the long silence. It was an awkward conversation starter as her voice lacked the geniality of a social butterfly

"Only once." The marine in front of her shook his head. "I don't like the teleporters. Makes me wanna throw up. You?"

"A couple times. Usually to get paid for a mission."

"Can't you do that online?" the marine asked. Samus grinned at this. Normally that was case.

"I guess getting paid is an afterthought. I'll come to Daiban for the nightlife, and I'll stick around for the paycheck."

"I hear that."

The marine gave a small, forced laugh. There was little more chatter between them before the security check, and the check itself went smoothly much to Samus' surprise. They waltzed through, and Samus was handed a ticket for the LCS. They moved ahead to the waiting area. There wasn't a direct line to the teleporter. Instead, the cobalt platform rested on a raised dais with an operator's pulpit standing by. Those waiting to be next stood in the adjacent area until their ticket was called before moving onto the platform They then had their ticket checked, and finally were teleported in a flash of neon blue light.

Samus read her ticket and realized that this is where they all parted ways. The ticket was for one. "I guess I'm free to go," she remarked dryly.

"Not exactly." One of the marines walked up to Samus. "Aside from being unable to leave Daiban, you are being shifted to a different handler. You'll see them planetside as soon as you step off the teleporter." The marine took a step back and, with the other marine, planted himself along the outer edge of the area to watch Samus enter the teleporter.

The long stretches of waiting were starting to grate on Samus, and she attempted to pass the time more swiftly by playing little games with herself. She would look around and look for any ingresses ranging from the obvious entryways and doors to the vents and even the teleporter, and imagine that a platoon of enemy combatants were storming the port. This was something she liked to do when she had nothing to occupy herself with. Whenever she visited Daiban, she played this game a lot.

It took perhaps another twenty minutes for Samus' ticket to be called and in that time she had imagined at least three different ways that the Damocles could be targeted. This ranged from using a commandeered commercial vessel and sneaking aboard to a full-blown invasion. In each scenario the combatants made their way to the teleporter in a desperate attempt to get to the surface.

The high civilian count made direct combat a catastrophe. There would be mass panic. The best solution to this was to freeze as many of the combatants as possible with a diffusion missile, then pick off the stragglers who would target her as their main threat. Then Samus imagined what would happen if one of them were to take a hostage. That would be trouble. Her weaponry wasn't the best suited for a standoff. Her gear was largely exploration and combat centered.

Samus had gone deep into thought, almost unintentionally ignoring the last call for her ticket. She chastised herself for this, but made a mental note to return to that scenario when she had the chance. Several people had moved ahead onto the cobalt platform and Samus joined them, handing her ticket to the operator.

According to her ticket, Samus was scheduled to arrive at Remdan's business district at 8:45 A.M. As she looked around to the other people on the platform, she noticed that she stood out. This was normal for her. Between her 6"2 stature, defined muscles, and noticeable scarring on her lower arm she was a green hat with an orange bill even among the general population; these people were not the general population. Most of them were dressed in business attire. Most wore suits and dresses, or a casual work shirt with a tie. Samus had long outgrown any sense of embarrassment for her physical demeanor, but could never help but feel a sense of awkward lamentation for her attire. She couldn't help the scars, but her fashion sense left her self-conscious.

Samus shifted her focus to the operator, who was handling the controls for the teleporter. She raised her hand and said in a clear voice, "8:45 to Remdan! Business district!" before pressing her hand to the operations screen. Samus exhaled before the transition could begin, a trick that would help keep her from feeling nauseous afterward. There was a flash of light before Samus' eyes and a tingle that swept over her body. As she was transported via the light cable, she felt incorporeal. This was similar to the feeling of entering her morph ball state, but without a balled up power suit to guide she lacked any sense of control. It was as if her mind was floating in a body of water and that body of water was bubbling gently against her from every direction.

When she came to on the other side, she drew in a deep breath and her muscles locked. She looked around the small, square space she had landed in and found that the other passengers were dealing with the travel in their own way. Some had pained looks on their faces, others as if they were about to vomit. One or two had no visible distress whatsoever. Samus envied them. She did not envy the passenger that leaned against the room's wall and, from the sounds of it, was heaving. They were all now officially on the surface of Daiban, in the Remdan-Damocles business port.

An intercom was signaled, calling for their attention: "You may exit the LCS chamber when the light above the door frame turns green."

This was followed by: "Custodian to LCS chamber seven."

Apparently the passenger's heaving was no longer dry. Samus focused on the door way and it's red light. Once it turned green, the passengers rushed for the door. Samus stood to the side of the room and let the crowd exit. Before she had a chance to leave, a custodian was already entering the chamber, delaying Samus' exit by several seconds. She had absolutely not waited for this on purpose to stall meeting her new handler. Of course, once the custodian began cleaning, she had a clear line to the exit and no more excuses.

Samus exited the chamber and looked around, finding a sign on the wall that directed her to the lobby. Following the sign, Samus found herself in the well-lit lobby surrounded by several dozen people and the dissonance of business meetings being planned, family reunions, and other jovial noises.

She scanned the crowd, looking for her handler. She expected that they would be here waiting for her but wasn't sure who they were or what they looked like. Her handler would need to find her.

"Princess, over here!"

Samus turned to the far wall and saw, leaning with his arms crossed, a tall muscular man in a black t-shirt and jeans. Samus couldn't resist his infectious smile and strode over to him. She shook her head back and forth, overjoyed to see her long time friend and past comrade, Anthony Higgs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long this chapter took. It ended up being much longer than I anticipated and I decided against splitting it into two chapters. I also had some writer's block and generally felt the chapter wasn't gonna be good enough, but I'll let you be the judge of that. If you're willing to comment, it's greatly appreciated. I like knowing where I can improve. Thanks for reading!


	3. Roundabout

**Chapter Three: Roundabout**

“I didn’t think you would be my handler,” Samus said as she wafted through the crowd. The two friends exited the lobby so they could loiter in the smaller antechamber away from the cluster of people. Anthony stood there with his arms crossed and a grin plastered on his face. It was almost reassuring to Samus, but the initial high of seeing him had begun to wear off. If not for the past 48-hours of hell, Samus would have asked how he was, what he had been up to since they last saw each other. Instead, she asked, “Do you know why they arrested me?”

Anthony perked an eyebrow and let out a short sigh. “I don’t know much. Kinda why I got chosen to get you.” He looked at the glass doors out to the sidewalk, and Samus followed his gaze. The massive buildings on Daiban rose so far into the sky that natural sunlight only poured into the city when the sun passed directly overhead. The road was dim, lit by the pale-yellow city lights, and along the edge of the concrete roads were several parked vehicles. Although spacecraft made ground-travel largely obsolete, Daiban’s dense population of twelve billion made it impractical to properly regulate air travel. In the most populous or busy sectors of the city, ground vehicles were the common mode of transportation if you decided against walking. “We shouldn’t take too long. Our ride’s waiting on us, and they’re kinda impatient.” He looked back over to Samus and motioned for her to follow him.

Unlike the marines Samus had followed before, Anthony’s motions were relaxed. His gait was no longer the rigid military pacing from their youth, but a confident stride. Far from commanding, his tone was familiar and friendly. When Samus followed him, it was not an order she was required to accept but a gesture she chose to. And so she did.

As they exited the building, a brisk wind flung strands of hair into her face. It was chilling. Samus brushed her hair to the side, tucking it behind her ear. This was what she remembered from Daiban. Cold, dark, and crowded. She walked down the stone steps of the spaceport and, looking up, saw how small the building was compared to the rest of the business district. Samus could make out the top floor, 16 stories high. Blue skies rolled overhead the streets and for a moment it threw off Samus’ senses. That’s what Daiban did.

Parked several meters from the building was a small vehicle, black paint and tinted windows. It hovered one meter off the asphalt with a low hum that reverberated through Samus’ ears. Anthony laid his hand on top of the car and turned to Samus. With a swift movement, he opened the car door and said, “Ladies first.” Samus smiled and leaned over to the mountainous man to punch him in the shoulder. “Ooh, the claws come out.” Anthony roared with laughter as Samus ducked into the car.

It was dark outside, but nothing compared to the dismal cave someone turned this car into. In the corner, across from the backseat, sat a woman. Her diminutive figure was muffled by layers of coats; her head was adorned with a lavish, silk scarf that clung to her with only a few stray auburn hairs left free. She donned a pair of sunglasses and, if the smell was anything to go by, was caked in thick layers of makeup. Samus scrunched her eyebrows and sat across from her, laying her luggage case on her lap.

Even as the car door slammed shut and Anthony sat next to her, Samus’ gaze zeroed in on this woman. Her lips curled into a frown and she broke her gaze to look at Anthony. He was quiet and his smile had faded. The silence was ominous.

“Samus,” the woman spoke. The voice was familiar. Pleasant and clear.

Samus’ frown fell away, and she leaned forward. It was too dark to make any subtle features out, but this woman’s voice was enough to hazard a guess. “Catherine?”

Catherine raised a finger to her lips. “It’s been a long time, dear,” she said, grabbing her sunglasses and lowering them. She winked, a playful gesture, as her fingers curled around the handle of a hitherto unseen briefcase. “I wish it were under better circumstances.” She brought the briefcase up to her lap and turned its latches to Samus. “Before I give you your housewarming gift, I need a little quid pro quo.”

“What do you want?” Samus rested her hands on her knees and looked over to Anthony. He was staring between the two of them with a blank expression. “Right. You want to know what happened.”

Catherine nodded and tapped her fingers on the suitcase. “Yes, dear. I’d like to know why you blew up another planet.” She put extra emphasis on planet, an almost bitter move that Samus found uncharacteristic of her. There was a lump in Samus’ throat as she explained the details of her recent exploits.

“It started three days ago. I was contracted by the Galactic Federation through Biologic to help some scientists survey SR388. We encountered an unknown parasite that infected me.” Her words were stoic, almost passive in their monotone. She was reciting the events as if they had unfolded on someone else. She glanced back at Anthony and he gave her a short, reassuring smile.

“The infection was almost impossible to treat, but someone had the idea that the parasite was only spreading because I exterminated the Metroids. They created a vaccine using Metroid DNA and saved my life, but they had to remove parts of my suit.” She ran her hand along her shoulder, down to her chest. “The suit was infected, and they brought the infection to the BSL. There was a distress beacon. Then they sent me and Adam to investigate.”

Once the words came out, her hands rose to cover her mouth, but it was too late. Catherine’s face said nothing. It was Anthony who shifted around in his seat. “Adam? Our Adam?”

“No,” Samus corrected herself. “Sort of.” She instinctively reached for her bag and unzipped it, producing the clamshell computer. “I didn’t know about it, but the military, they upload the minds of great scientists and generals and stuff to some database. He didn’t explain it all to me. But Adam’s mind was uploaded. It’s an AI.” She fumbled with the computer. It booted up with a quiet whir.

Samus didn’t look away from the computer. Her cheeks flared up, and she felt hot. “It’s an AI,” she repeated quietly. Once the computer had started, she turned it to Anthony. “Say hello to Anthony, Adam.”

“ _Corporal Higgs, it has been a long time. I apologize that we’re meeting again like this.”_

The text popped up on the screen and Anthony leaned back against his seat. He brought his hand to his head, covering his eyes, and let out a groan. “Wait, wait, I’m getting lost.”

Catherine cut in, placing her hand on Samus’ knee. Their fingers grazed gently against one another and the slight human contact both eased the bounty hunter’s nerves and made her feel awkward. “Samus, I know about the AI program. You’re telling us that Adam Malkovich was involved in this and his mind was uploaded?”

Samus nodded. “He’s right here.”

“Yes, that brings me to my next question. Commander Malkovich, this artificial Malkovich, is in your computer? Not with the Federation?” Her tone was even, calm, like a parent coaxing their child into admitting they drew on the walls.

Samus nodded more slowly this time. “Only part of him. It was his idea. When we landed on the BSL, Adam had access to files about everything on board. We copied most of them. But we could only partially copy his AI. The _Poseidon_ exited hyperspace at an inconvenient time.”

“All right. So, you and Adam were on board the BSL, then what?” The sunglasses covered her eyes but Samus felt the weight of Catherine’s attention.

“The ship was overrun. The crew and the experiments, everything was infected. Worst of all was-” Samus stopped herself and pressed her lips together. Catherine squeezed her knee and Samus drew in a long breath. She exhaled, looked down to the computer, and said, “Adam, tell them about the SA-X.”

The text flashed on the screen in segments small enough to each appear at full:

“ _The infected suit parts became sentient; they were a carbon-copy of Samus Aran.”_

“ _Samus’ power suit was weakened from the surgery, and she could not face the SA-X.”_

“ _Even as she regained her strength, the parasites were cunning.”_

“ _Within nine hours, they had replicated no less than ten SA-X on the BSL.”_

“ _This is why Samus found it necessary to destroy the BSL and SR388.”_

With a swish of her wrists, Catherine removed her sunglasses, face nearing the computer screen. Its light shone on her pale skin as her eyes scanned the texts. Samus saw something in those eyes she had never seen in Catherine.

“Perfect.” The small woman leaned back against her seat and swung one leg over the other. “This is exactly what I needed.”

Samus’ mouth hung open as she attempted to make sense of this reaction. She whispered a quick goodbye to Adam and closed the computer. As she put it away, she asked, “What did you need? I don’t understand.”

Anthony had finally removed his hand from his face and leaned forward, his leg poking Samus’ as he interjected. “I still don’t understand this AI thing. Why were you sent on this mission with an AI based on our old CO?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know it was Adam at first. He was just the AI that was required to oversee the mission.”

“So the Feds send you to a space station with your dead CO? That doesn’t strike you as strange?” His body language belied his incredulous tone as he relaxed against the seat. “There was something else going on, wasn’t there?”

Samus appreciated Anthony’s blunt perception and had to admit that there was. “The parasites weren’t the only thing I found on the BSL. We also found Metroids. They were conducting research on Metroid growth right by their home planet.”

Catherine had reached inside her coat as Samus mentioned the Metroids, producing a small pen and pad. She began jotting down notes as Samus described her encounter within the BSL’s restricted labs, the different Metroid evolutions all trapped within test tubes, and the infants that had broken free to attack an SA-X. “Samus,” she said as the huntress finished recounting, “Do you have any solid evidence on what the Federation was doing with those Metroids?”

Samus admitted she did not. “Adam said they were being researched for medical purposes. Just like the scientists on Ceres were, but I don’t believe that. I don’t think Adam does either. We wanted to decrypt some of the files we copied, maybe we could find something.”

“Samus, you realize what you’re doing is illegal, yes?” Catherine stated.

“I know.” Samus felt her face become hot again.

“Good. No point in having more charges pressed against you, so why don’t you let me take care of that?”

“Catherine, you can’t be serious? You’re a member of the galactic council!” Samus protested.

“And?” The question appeared serious. “Everyone on the council has a skeleton in their closet just waiting to be freed. If the military is charging you with destruction of property in spite of what you told us, _and_ they had Metroids on board that ship, I think we found a skeleton worth freeing.” Catherine placed her hand back on Samus’ knee. “Give us the computer and we’ll make sure that anything incriminating gets into the right hands.”

With her hand wrapped around the computer, Samus squeezed and released it, placing it on Catherine’s briefcase. Catherine placed the computer in her coat and turned to Anthony. “Are we near our destination?”

Anthony reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small screened device with an electronic map displayed on the glass. “Just around the corner.”

“What’s our destination?” Samus inquired.

“Anthony is your handler, but given his current status as a special operative-” This was news to Samus. The last she saw, Anthony was a corporal. Special operatives were hand selected personnel working under the High Chairman of the Galactic Council. “-he has no place of residency on Daiban. We’re placing you in the Star-Suite Hotel until everything gets sorted out. We’re also arranging a lawyer for you.”

“Who?”

“Danielle Walsh, the same attorney that headed the Zebes case. Figure she’s the best at what she does, and you’re the best at what you do. It should work out.”

It was a small comfort knowing things were already being taken care of. Samus was terrible when it came to matters of the court. “Good. I guess a court date hasn’t been finalized yet, so we have time to prepare.”

The car stopped, now parked along the edges of the Star-Suite Hotel. Anthony opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. As he stretched his muscles, Samus scooted towards the door. Catherine stopped her with a gesture and handed over the suitcase. “You asked me before what I needed.” She removed her sunglasses and stared into Samus’ eyes. “I need you to work with me here. Don’t do anything reckless, don’t get in any trouble.” Samus didn’t respond, but grabbed both the suitcase and her luggage and slid out the door. Catherine mumbled something but was out of ear shot.

Looking around, Samus realized they had traveled far from the business district. There were fewer buildings, each no higher than ten stories and each given plenty of room. In front of her was a wide, round building. It was ovular with several antechambers around the base and a flat top, likely either a recreational area or a spacecraft landing pad. Its rich colors, blues and oranges, were a far cry from the drab brutalist approach of Remdan’s central hubs. This hotel appeared to be more of a vacation resort.

“The Star-Suite is pretty good, huh?” Anthony commented. “I have to walk you in and get all the papers in order, but after that you’re basically free to go. If we need to contact you, well, that’s why they put that on you.” He pointed to the wrist-bound tracker.

Samus followed Anthony along the pathway to the hotel’s entrance. It was uncrowded, with only a handful of people walking to and fro. Daiban’s bashful star hid behind a thin visage of clouds, yet it burned bright with its blush. Samus’ shadow reached out in front of her as she walked. On the ground were fallen leaves carried by the wind. They blew into the glass door and her shadow overtook them. It reminded Samus of moments in the heat of battle when scattered pirate troops would scurry towards the exits of their bases and ships. The red alert lights flashed as she approached the fleeing combatants, fighting among each other to leave and dooming them all.

Anthony grabbed the door handle and pushed, then turned to Samus and let her pass. “Are you alright?” he asked. There was no response as Samus walked into the main lobby of the hotel. A circular desk with numerous attendants was the centerpiece of the room. Several attendants sat facing their particular entrance as others sat facing the other cardinal directions. They approached the desk and Anthony spoke with one of them.

Samus paid no attention to their conversation. She was lost in her memory. She moved without thinking, walking off from the desk and towards a painting on the wall that depicted the landscape of an alien world. Certainly alien to the people of Daiban. Green seas brushed against black sand beaches, two suns perched in the sky, and tall trees bowed over an enormous, dark crustacean. Its claw gripped the husk of a thick palm fruit. The fruit’s shape reminded Samus of a human head.

There was a scream, distant at first, that swelled to cacophony within Samus. Whether it was her or someone else she didn’t know, but the longer she stared at this picture the harsher it grew. At a younger age, it would have rendered Samus to tears. She stared, locked into position and unable to end the internal tempest of emotions that whirled in her chest. Then she felt Anthony’s hand on her shoulder. The warmth was a focal point, something to distract her. With her focus on Anthony, the scream abated, leaving only a hollow echo.

“That’s a nice beach, don’t you think?” Anthony asked.

“Yeah.” Her lips trembled as she replied, and she placed her hand on Anthony’s. “You’re done?” Samus squeezed his hand and faced him. Though he smiled, it was thin. No wrinkles around his eyes, a sign that this smile was forced.

“Yeah, it’s all good. Your room’s on the fourth floor. Room twelve.” And with this, Anthony took his hand from Samus’ shoulder and placed both his hands on his hips. “Guess I should head back to the car. Don’t wanna keep the missus busy.” The two shared a sheepish laugh. Anthony turned to walk away and then not more than two steps into his gait he stopped. “Samus,” he began. “I know things are tough right now, but you’re tougher. You’ll pull through this. And after you do, how about we go out sometime to catch up? I know a few clubs where you can drink me under the table.”

“Thank you, Anthony.” Samus didn’t turn to watch him walk away, but she smiled faintly.

Time was eclipsed by the aimless wandering of her mind. Her shadow shortened, the sun now hanging boldly in the sky. Its light poured through the glass in bold, radiant streaks of yellow. With her fists clenched around the handles of her suitcase and luggage she started off for the nearest staircase, eschewing the awkward ease of a cramped elevator ride.

She climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and found its elegance an utter mismatch. Powerful red and gold carpeting, warm lights, mahogany doors for each of the rooms. It was absolute decadence. The hall was empty and quiet, so Samus focused on finding her room with haste. Long, vacuous corridors left a bad taste in her mouth. Room 12 was towards the end of the hall, close to the emergency exit. When she came upon the door, she first thought she had forgotten to get a key. It dawned on her that an upscale establishment like this likely used the most secure locks one could afford. Possibly biometric or magnetic. She expected a finger scanner or voice recognition software. The door was unlocked.

Apprehensive, Samus slowly opened the door to a large room. Much less a hotel, more like an apartment. It was fully furnished with a curved couch wrapped around an entertainment display. The light fixture overhead filled every corner with its amber glow. There was a small kitchenette in the corner with an oven, a refrigerator, and other amenities. Samus spent most of her nights in the cramped, dark quarters of her gunship – or a gunship, as she had several throughout the years – and was accustomed to sleeping in the dark ambiance of space. She had spent nights in hotels like this before, often times when she was younger and inexperienced, a wild-eyed and prodigal youth unlike the prudent woman she’d become. She’d wasted enough money to know how easy it was to become broke.

She laid the suitcase on the kitchenette counter and threw her puke-colored luggage case onto the couch. Her burdens were cast off and for a moment she decided not to think about Space Pirates, Metroids, X-parasites, and court cases. Instead she thought about the warm, comfortable bed she would sleep in tonight. Until she heard the bedroom door swing open. A young woman stood there with a green uniform and a trolley of cleaning supplies. The woman looked surprised to see Samus, either because she was not finished cleaning or because of her Amazonian stature, ad quickly pushed the trolley out passed her.

“I’m sorry, Miss, I only just finished cleaning the apartment,” she said, hanging her head low. “Please enjoy your stay. There are complimentary candies on your pillow.” The woman quickly exited the room, leaving Samus bemused. It seemed an odd sequitur to mention, but she wasn’t one to pass an opportunity for a snack.

Samus entered the bedroom. It was cozy, neither small nor large, with a queen sized bed with silk sheets and fluffy pillows. On the center pillow was a small box wrapped in blue string, and underneath was a card embroidered with a fancy border of flowers and vines. It read, “To Samus,” which piqued her curiosity. She had only just been checked in. Was the card created that fast? It was a physical card, not an electronic email. She slid the card out from underneath the box and opened it, reading it under her breath.

_To Samus Aran,_

_This may seem sudden, but I am in need of your assistance. This is a matter that only someone with your skills can be trusted to handle. I would like to meet in person. Be at the Star-Suite’s dining hall at 19:00 and look for the familiar face._

_Regards,_

_A Friend In Need_

Samus lowered the note, closed it between her fingers and flicked it onto the bed. She grabbed the box of candies and unwrapped it while she turned and walked back into the main room. There was a clock on the kitchen counter that read 13:02. She had time to kill if she was going to meet this mysterious stranger.


	4. From August to Autumn

**Chapter Four: From August to Autumn**

Samus placed the television remote on the couch’s armrest. Having surfed through several news channels for the past half-hour, she had yet to notice anything relating to her. If the news regarding SR388 had gotten out, there would be a flood of stories on every channel. Instead, it was all politics.

Samus was never invested in Federation politics. It was something she made clear early on in her bounty hunting career. She didn’t work for the money or the fame, and she certainly didn’t work to further some airhead’s agenda. That meant a politician had to earn her trust and work on her terms. But this also meant that she hadn’t kept up with the ongoing details of general GF politics.

On the TV were several panelists sitting along a rounded table discussing the current political situation. Though she wasn’t invested in the people on screen, Samus was at least interested in what was considered newsworthy and whether it would relate to her condition.

“Clearly the outer colonies would feel threatened if we sent a starfleet out there without notice!” one panelist said, his fist slamming onto the table as his mouth seemed to salivate. “But if we don’t do something now, these cowards will spread like a disease!” The other guests seemed accustomed to this man’s vocabulary and outwardly angry temperament. Samus had seen many people on the news like this before. Loud and aggressive, but often the first to call security when a six-foot-tall woman tells them they’re lying about what actually happened on Zebes.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t do anything,” another panelist responded. They were smaller in stature, pale with glasses and a patchy goatee on their fattened chin. He raised his hands defensively and seemed to lean away from the other panelist. “If we go in there and declare martial law, we’ll end up destabilizing the entire region. We’ve made these mistakes before. Why should we repeat them?”

The angry panelist, whose name flashed beneath him on the screen as Otis Krowleski, responded with a face of disgust. “Bah, you’re daft if you think we’ve learned nothing. These pirate sympathizers oughta be in front of a firing squad; that’s what we did wrong last time. Letting them rot in a cell feels good until they bust out or leak information to their buddies, then you’ve got our soldiers dying for nothing!” His voice reached a fevered pitch towards the end of his tirade, and at this point another man sitting between the two with a gray pinstripe suit and slicked back hair interrupted their argument.

“You’ve both made some great points, but we’re running out of time for this topic.” He produced a handful of cards from his suit and sat them on the desk. “I think we should move on to our next topic.” He looked at the cards and smiled. “Ah, this one should really bring out the divisions in the room!” He winked at the camera. Samus at once felt a sense of guilt for even watching this. It was less news, more reality TV. “The election! As you all know, Chairman Keaton has served as the head of the Galactic Council for over eight years. He has high approval ratings across the board, everybody loves him, but he recently announced that he will be resigning from his post as Chairman due to illness.”

Samus shot up from her seat at this announcement, one hand moving to her mouth to cover her inaudible gasp. Keaton was one of the few politicians that Samus had an utmost respect for. Throughout the years, he had always shown that he was of the same mind as the Chozo. A lover of life and of peace. Galactic Chairmen had terms of six years. Keaton won his second term with ease after the success of his first, but Samus had always known him as a healthy individual.

“While we know little about the circumstances of his sickness, we know there is a parade of candidates vying for his chair,” the man continued. Above him several faces appeared on the screen as holographic projections. The faces were of varying people, of varying species, all who wanted to replace Keaton. There was one face in particular that caught Samus’ attention.

“Son of a...” She trailed off towards the end, but her nostrils flared as she saw Colonel Mullan’s face smiling towards the top of the screen. Just above him was Catherine Favreau. Samus had to take a breath, then sat back down as she watched the train wreck unfold.

“We’ll open the floor with Ilene Dreyfus,” the host said, waving his hand to a woman, young with blond hair in a gray dress.

“Thanks, John. I think it’s clear,” she began with confidence, defending and supporting Mullan on several points, about a number of different topics. She seemed focused on matters of security and budgets. Though Samus admitted that the woman made some fair points, she disagreed with a fundamental piece of her argument – namely that Mullan was a trustworthy or worthy successor to Keaton.

One of the other panelists interrupted the woman, a black man with a clean-shaved head. “You can’t be serious? How is he going to balance the budget if he wants to increase military spending while leaving the tax system alone? Where’s the money coming from?”

At this point, Samus turned her ears off. Taxes were not high on her priority list, at the moment. She turned to the clock and saw it was after six o’clock. The letter said to meet in the dining hall at seven. Their use of 19:00 suggested they were military. Their ability to get that letter to her as she arrived to the hotel suggested they knew she would be here, or that they could track her. She had known plenty of people in her stint with the Federation Police, maybe one of them had sent the letter? Or a general she had worked with as a bounty hunter? The possibilities were endless with a career spanning years.

It was time to get ready, so entered the bedroom and opened the drawer that was built into the underside of the bed. She had already unpacked her clothing, what little she had. Although she would stick out regardless, she wanted to wear something more appropriate for a dining hall than the casual clothes she wore now. She quickly changed into the only summer dress she owned, an orange thing she bought on a whim several years ago and rarely wore.

When she returned to the main room, the panelists were still arguing. Samus walked to the couch and grabbed the remote, but before she could turn the TV off, she caught what they were talking about.

“Councilwoman Favreau’s currently ahead with pledged delegates,” the bespectacled guest began. “And she’s favored by many respondents as Keaton’s natural successor. She’s clearly a skilled politician, she gets things done. It seems like a shoe-in.”

Samus smirked and tapped the remote on the armrest. Right, right, Catherine was running to replace Keaton, she realized, so of course she would want any information that could be used against Mullan. There was a price attached to any favor from that woman. Still, of the two, Samus preferred her.

“Yeah, and how many _delegates_ do you think she’s bribed?” responded Otis.

“And on with this nonsense! Next you’ll tell us she drinks baby blood!”

“You’re just hiding the fact that she’s been tied to several scandals in the past-”

“And you’re supporting a man that claims humans should-”

_Click._ And silence. With the TV turned off, Samus headed for the door. She wasn’t sure where the dining hall was located, and she had spare time, so she planned to survey the area. She paced the hall with the grim face of determination she wore as she explored alien caverns. As far as she was concerned, this place was alien. The building’s ovular design meant that the corridor was curved, although the actual size of the building made it difficult to notice. Eventually she came across a small bisection of stairs and elevators, with a map pinned to the wall. It was intricate, numbers and colors coding where everything was.

There were several points of interest if she were to survey the entire building, but given the scope of that mission she felt it would be best to limit herself for now. The dining hall was on the second floor, towards the center. She would start there.

Samus made her way down the stairs. The second floor was, by comparison, a more cramped experience than the fourth floor. Perhaps it was the time, but there were people everywhere. Humans, humanoid aliens, non-humanoid aliens of smaller stature. Daiban was a human colony, a side-effect of being a largely militarized zone and the Federation’s reluctance to admit a wider array of species into the armed forces because of “budgetary constraints”. That didn’t stop their use of alien bounty hunters, of course, nor did it stop aliens from living on the planet or visiting for official business and vacations.

The hall, wide and tall, was built with alien visitors in mind. Its design was minimalist and functional, a choice Samus had wished on the rest of the building. She found a small group of guests heading inwards, presumably towards the dining hall, and followed them at a comfortable pace. When they came upon a set of double doors, Samus realized they had arrived.

One member of the party she followed was kind enough to hold the door for her, and she thanked them curtly. As she walked into the dining hall, she was immediately greeted by a man in a white buttoned shirt with a black tie. He was young, early twenties, with a menu in hand. He welcomed Samus in with an awkward gesture. His head just barely measured up to Samus’ shoulder.

“Your name, Miss?” he asked. Despite the gesture, his tone was well rehearsed.

“Aran.” She supposed she wouldn’t need to give a first name, but just in case clumsily added it afterwards.

The waiter stepped back towards a podium with a book and perused the pages. This gave Samus a chance to look around. The dining hall was massive, encompassing two floors in height. Its walls were a dark mahogany and adorned with paintings that Samus could only assume were priceless. A staircase to the second level sat next to the hall’s entrance and hanging in the center of the room was a large chandelier. The room was packed with people, but aside from her and a few others there was no one waiting for a table. They were either efficient or had a larger capacity than she first thought.

The waiter came over to Samus and clasped his hands together. “Miss Aran, yes, there is a table waiting for you. It seems you are early.”

“I can wait.”

He didn’t seem to know how to take that response. “It also would seem the other patron arrived early, however.”

“Where is our table?”

The waiter smiled and nodded. “Right this way, Ma’am.”

Samus followed him towards the center of the room. Even without her suit active, she was scanning her surroundings, watching for any face that was familiar. Anyone she knew. As the two of them rounded a high-seated booth in the center of the room, one figure stood out to Samus. A lone man sitting underneath the chandelier. He sat with his hands folded, wearing a dark gray dinner jacket and black pants. He wasn’t looking at Samus and yet he seemed focused on her. Just a slight glance, she could have sworn she saw movement in his eyes. He was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. The salt-and-pepper hair, the aquiline nose, the strong jaw.

The waiter stopped at his table and turned to Samus, gesturing her to take a seat. She did, but hesitantly.

“I thought you might show up early,” the man opened with as the waiter walked away. “If you were wondering, we aren’t bugged. We can speak freely.” He unfolded his hands and placed them flat on the table.

There was a moment of silence before Samus responded. “You said there was something you needed my help with.”

The man closed his eyes and raised his chin. “Not even a courteous how-do-you-do?” He smiled and opened his eyes. “Samus, don’t tell me you forgot who I am?” He leaned forward. “It has been a while, though, hasn’t it?”

Samus’ nostrils flared as a powerful aroma filled her nose. Musky and ashen as if someone distilled masculinity into a bottle and sprayed themselves. The face had aged, but that scent brought back many memories, none pleasant to look back on now.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” Samus drew sharply.

“Commander, now,” he replied. Samus’ eyebrows raised at this. “It’s been almost eight years, Samus. You weren’t the only one making a name for yourself.”

“Commander? But Adam was-” Samus stopped herself before she said anything regretful. Interest was in the man’s eyes, but she refrained from divulging anything more. “When was this?” Samus had to chastise herself for not learning this earlier. A change in the old guard of the military was big news.

“A few months ago. Since Commander Malkovich’s passing, there has been some trouble filling the hole he left.” He laid his hand out on a napkin and scrunched it in his palm. “We never had the chance to speak at his funeral.”

With some pain, Samus admitted, “I didn’t go. It was too much.” She folded her arms. This was getting off topic. “What did you need, Augustus?”

“I need you,” he stated bluntly. “I understand your current predicament is delicate, but these are matters that can’t be solved by the usual channels. I need someone surgical, and you’ve always been the best.”

“Right.” Samus scoffed. “What’s the job?” The question had to be clear. Augustus was beating around the bush.

“We’ve had reports of missing spacecraft all from within the same system. Different sizes, different classes. We sent in a few scouting ships, but they never returned. So we sent in an Olympus-Class ship to show whoever was responsible that the Galactic Federation does not abide by attacks on its people. And now it’s missing, too.” He pressed his lips together, frustrated. “You know the MO better than anyone. I thought Space Pirate remnants might pop up from time to time, but they took the _Aegir_. That’s not a ragtag team of pirates. That takes organization.”

Samus scowled at the thought of Space Pirates. It was true that she had killed their leaders and destroyed their bases, but they were like cockroaches. If they could survive, then they would spread. “So you’re saying Space Pirates are raiding Federation ships. Why do you need me to handle this?”

“Because,” Augustus began, “the _Aegir_ had an Aurora Unit, and in the event of an attack it should have sent a message to the capital. It didn’t. I can only assume that they took the entire ship out in one hit, or they shut the Aurora Unit down before it could send a message. Either scenario proposes a risk to any Federation fleet sent to investigate. We don’t know what we’re up against, and in war information is your most valuable resource.”

“Fair point, but you’re forgetting something.” Samus raised her arm and pointed to the wrist bound tracking device. “I can’t leave planet. I have a date coming up soon and I need to ask my fortune teller what their sign is.”

Augustus didn’t find the humor in her statement. “Do you know who built that tracking device?” Samus replied with a quick no. “A subsidiary of the Galactic Federation’s Research and Development Department, HoneTech. And as Commander of Armed Forces, I have privileges and access codes.”

Samus sighed in relief. She hadn’t been wearing this bracelet for more than a day and she had already grown to hate it. “So you can take it off. But you want me to leave planet for who knows how long to investigate possible pirate activity. You understand the trouble I’m in if I get caught, right?”

“I know,” he replied. “But the Federation has gotten relaxed in recent years. We haven’t focused on the growing threats. Rebellions like Horus IV, not to mention the Krikens, and we have pencil pushers too scared to make a move and save lives.” There was a fire in his voice, dim as it sounded. A subdued passion Samus had thought extinguished. “You of all people know you sometimes have to bend the rules to save lives.”

She wasn’t sure if Augustus was referring to the destruction of Zebes or SR388. Pangs of guilt shot through her system either way. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do it. I just wanted to make sure you thought things through.”

Augustus grinned and placed his napkin on Samus’ side of the table. “Everything is covered.” Samus grabbed the napkin, but he did not remove his fingers, waiting until after they had touched. “There’s one more thing, Samus.” Where had been a grin was now a stoic, blank canvas. “Inside the napkin is a hard drive, it’ll have all the information you need. It should be compatible with your power suit. But,” he hesitated and his eyes moved away from Samus. “the co-ordinates of these attacks haven’t just been anywhere.”

Squeezing the napkin between her fingers, Samus felt the solid hard drive beneath and pulled her hand away. “Outer edge of Federation space? Usual MO.”

He shook his head. “No. FS-176.”

“You mean the star system of Zebes?” Her voice became quiet, almost whispering. “Why would Pirates be there?” Her breathing tightened, and she squeezed the napkin with more force. She stood up from her seat and took a step away from the table. “Dravis.” She used Augustus’ last name.

“Yes?”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

“We want to know what’s there. This is just reconnaissance. No engagement with the enemy unless absolutely necessary. Gather intel, then report back to me.”

“One last question.” She turned away from him before she asked. “Did you know about the Metroid breeding facilities on the Biologic Space Labs?” Samus could hear a faint sigh and the sound of Dravis’ foot tapping on the floor.

“I did. I know it’s something you will feel strongly about, as Adam would have. However, I only supported the program for its peaceful applications. I know how dangerous Metroids are. I would never use them as weapons. Others in the military disagree with me. Understand, I am trying to help the galaxy.” There was the slightest hint of something in his voice. Desperation? Samus wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure if she cared, either.

“I will review the information and leave tomorrow morning. I presume a ship will be provided?” she responded coldly.

“We can provide a ship to get you off planet, and a fake identification number to pass inspections. However, once off planet, if you need a better vehicle, we won’t be of much help. This mission is strictly off the record as I’m sure you understand.”

“Right.” She began to walk away. “I’ll order room service. Goodnight, Commander Dravis.”

“Goodnight, Samus.”

With their goodbyes spoken, Samus shuffled back to her suite. It was a slow trek, and to the passersby she might have seemed out of place. All the happy vacationers, smiling faces, contrasted by this lone woman in orange, face like a monument. There were cracks in this facade, moments where lips trembled, but the dam held still even as she entered her suite. Her mind had pushed all the feelings aside it could, transparent in its attempt to cope with this information. Why the star system of Zebes? What was left for the Pirates to destroy of her adopted home?

She entered the suite’s bathroom and closed the door. The napkin in her hand had all the necessary information for this mission. She unraveled it, taking the small device and placing it on the counter. There was writing on the paper. “Access Code: 24 Omega 8 Theta 17 Rho” followed by “Click both buttons at once.” Samus did as the napkin instructed, clicking both the accept and decline buttons on the tracker. The green light glowed for a moment before a synthesized voice spoke.

“Input Command.”

Samus repeated the code on the napkin. The bracelet gave a short beep and the light lit up for a moment as the device unclamped itself from her wrist. She placed it on the bathroom counter and rubbed the opposite hand against her wrist. It felt nice to be free, even if it was under dire circumstances. It occurred to her that she was completely capable now of leaving Daiban. To ignore Dravis’ request and simply abscond with a ship. That wasn’t something she had planned on doing, but it was now something possible. Dravis either had enough faith to believe that she wouldn’t run away, or he had a backup plan. She shivered, a combination of the bathroom’s chilly temperature and the thought of Augustus Dravis.

“Why him,” she said. “Of all people.” She swiped the hard drive off the counter and looked it over. It was a two inch wide rectangular box with no markings. Everything on this box was probably highly classified. It might have been illegal for her to even know this existed. Her trial hadn’t even been given a court date and she was breaking the law again. Samus smiled and breathed in deeply.

She focused her thoughts on the hard drive. Not what was on it, but the box itself. Her mind cleared itself of anything that was not the box. She closed her eyes and felt the crackle of energy that ran through her body, followed by the tingle of assembling particles. Through her closed eyelids she saw a bright flash of light, and when she opened her eyes she was no longer wearing the orange dress, replaced by the orange power suit she had only briefly glimpsed prior.

The Chozo Varia suit Samus wore for years was a bio-technological marvel. After being infected with the X parasite, and having several parts of the suit surgically removed, it was no longer the suit she earned on Zebes in her youth. The metal plating that covered her body was replaced by layers of a durable, semi-gelatinous material that stretched over her in shades of orange and yellow, covering her trunk, legs, and arms. It stopped at her right forearm, just before the metallic arm cannon which had been untouched, and below her neck beneath a crimson helmet and its opaque, green visor. They were the last pieces of her original suit. The last piece of fully functioning Chozo technology currently in use in the entire galaxy.

She shook her head and looked down to her right palm. The hard drive was still in her hand. The visor’s interface automatically categorized it as an item she could interact with. With merely a thought, she began accessing the hard drive. Files appeared on her HUD, photos and documents and databases, all relating to her mission.

Beginning with the _Aegir,_ Samus made a note of any on-board personnel of interest. High ranking officers, anyone with clearance. If this were a pirate abduction, they might be taken captive for information. Next she scanned the database of all other disappearances in the area. Dravis hadn’t been kidding. Stilletos-Class scout ships, Griffin-Class Frigates, the _Aegir_ , and even hunter-class starships.

The coordinates were all in range of the FS-176 star system, home of both Zebes and Talon IV. It was a constant target of Space Pirate attacks at the height of their war with the Federation. Being home to two planets inhabited by the Chozo meant it was a hot spot for lucrative technology. If these disappearances weren’t the result of Space Pirate activity, it could be anyone who thought there was a chance of finding Chozo goodies.

The last file she browsed contained all the assets she would be afforded for the mission. In contrast to the other files, it was brief, simply listing what she would be lent and how she would obtain them. In the morning, she would travel to the coordinates in the file to pickup a small commercial spacecraft and a fake ID card. They had also deposited a small sum of credits into an account she could access for the mission. It was far below the rate she would expect for something this dangerous, but she wasn’t doing this for the money. She would need to transfer some credits from one of her side accounts.

Samus closed the files and looked towards the mirror. It was strange seeing how much she had changed over the years. Nowhere in her youth did she ever expect to be in this predicament, acting on behalf of the Federation while awaiting trial by the very same government. She stretched her arms out and crossed them, gazing at the sharp fins that stuck out of her forearms. They were the strangest feature of her suit. In design, the Chozo Power suit was bulky and sharp, but this new suit, combined with Human, Chozo, and Metroid DNA, was slender and smooth. Except for these fins, which had not existed prior.

They reminded her of the fangs of a Metroid, actually. They were similar in diameter and shape. Perhaps it was the vaccine that caused this. The power suit had always been capable of adapting to alien technologies. She supposed it was capable of adapting to genetic mutations, as well.

She deactivated her power suit and shambled into the main room. It wasn’t late, but she was exhausted. Today had been long and draining, and though Samus was glad she could finally rest, she knew that tomorrow would begin another tiring day, if not for a different reason. Leaning on the counter, she called the hotel lobby and ordered room service. Her mind drifted to Augustus as she waited. Commander Dravis.

“I was a stupid kid.”


	5. The Only Way Out is Through

**Chapter Five: The Only Way Out is Through  
**

The Daiban sun hid behind the brutal towers of Remdan's business district as Samus hurried along the sidewalk. With each step she took, there was a smack as her heel hit the concrete. City lights shone on her from above, casting shadows in all directions that mingled with those of nearby pedestrians. She was in her element, confidence clear in her body language. The sway of her shoulders and hips and the indelible smirk spoke to the crowd that this woman was not to be messed with.

She wore her Zero Suit as she always did when she was prepared to take a dangerous mission. The blue, skintight bodysuit manifested itself in a manner similar to her power suit, a lesser marvel of the Chozo that could be worn without the mental strain a suit of armor imparted. It was, almost in a literal sense, a second skin for her.

Energy flowed through Samus, now fully refreshed from a full night's sleep. The Star-Suite Hotel would need a well-written, five-star review when this was all over. She hadn't slept that well in years. Currently, she was en route to the set of coordinates from the hard drive. When she came upon them, it didn't surprise her to find it was a shipping company. Likely affiliated with the Federation military in some part if Dravis had stowed a ship here.

Samus stepped inside the building to the sound of a chiming bell. There was a man at the front desk, balding with a plaid shirt, that looked as engrossed in his work as one could expect. That is to say, not at all. He either didn't hear the bell chime or didn't care. Samus stepped towards the counter and made a short _ahem_ sound to get his attention. The man gazed up at Samus and let out a short yawn, then spoke in a dull voice.

"You here for the F-47?" He looked down and lazily typed something out on a keyboard that was stashed behind the counter. A hologram formed above the counter of a ship. It was a personal, Commercial-Class spacecraft. Its rectangular shape and stubby wings gave the impression it was specifically a Class-D, but Samus couldn't be sure. The ship was small enough to be flown by a single person for short deliveries. It wasn't something that could be used for a reconnaissance mission.

"Yes," Samus said in response. The man tapped a few keys, and the hologram disappeared. He stood up, stepped out from behind the counter, and gestured for Samus to follow him. Without a word, Samus followed. It was all around a very curt encounter.

The man led Samus into the building's hangar, a massive, elongated room with several levels of ships all standing in rows. These ships ranged from personal to freighter sized in ascending order. It was a short walk before the man stopped in front of the ship from the hologram, then turned to Samus.

"Here's the ship. Pretty good condition."

Not much for talking, she took it. He placed his hand on the ship and looked it over, seemingly fixated on it.

"What exactly do you need this for?" he asked, turning towards Samus. "Y'don't really look like the delivery girl kinda gal, y'know?"

Samus wasn't sure how to respond. The man continued anyway.

"Guy came in yesterday and said I'd know who to hand this ship off to by their eye. He said it'd be a blue eye. Thought he meant, y'know, the actual eye. Guess he was making a joke."

Samus brushed her fingers along the blue-tinged scarring around her right eye. It was certainly an identifying marker if nothing else.

"You're Samus Aran, right?" the man then asked.

Not having expected this line of questioning, Samus stammered a response. "Yes- Yes, I am. How did you know?"

"Cousin of mine worked on some Federation ship as a mechanic a few years back. Apparently you were having an off day or something. He mentioned seeing you with your helmet off, said you had a scar around your eye." The man gently tapped the hull of the delivery ship and a ramp descended, hitting the ground with a dull thud. "Guess you need this for something important. Take care of her."

"I do," she responded. "If anyone asks, don't tell them I was here."

"Like anyone'd believe me if I did." The man guffawed and waved Samus off before he walked away.

Samus walked up the ramp onto the ship and found that it was more cramped than it appeared from outside. She maneuvered into the cockpit, wedging herself onto the seat. Before her were a bevy of buttons, switches, and dials all to control the ship. It was more complicated than her own vessels, which were integrated with her power suit so she could control them using her heads-up display. Since she flew a Federation ship for her mission to the BSL, she was now accustom to these controls.

Underneath the control panel was a small compartment. Samus opened it to find a small card. It bore an image of her, clearly airbrushed to remove her scarring. This had to be her new ID. She brushed her thumb over the image and lines of data surfaced on the card.

SYLVIA WYLAND

CHROMETECH SERVICES

GENDER:FEMALE

DOB: JUNE 2, 2055

ORGAN DONOR: Y

ID: J5-VRM-76L

Samus rolled her eyes. Even if the information didn't need to be accurate, she figured Dravis was playing a joke by making her an organ donor. There weren't many people in the galaxy who could match her blood type. She placed the card back into the compartment and leaned back into the chair. Reaching for the lever at the side of the control panel, Samus slowly pulled and with a low groan the thrusters activated. This was absolutely a D-Class ship. The thrusters were weak.

"Couldn't afford a better ship?" Samus said dryly.

Samus messed with the control panel until the settings were to her liking. Artificial gravity, air pressure, life support. They wouldn't be as comfortable as her own ship, but it was better than the cold depths of space. She closed the ramp and began lift-off. The ship spun towards the ceiling at her command. She could feel the ship rumble as it lifted further into the air. Her back pressed into the stiff seat as the ceiling split apart, croaking out a low note as the sky opened for her ascension.

As her ship entered the mesosphere, blue became black. The ink of space, dotted with specks of white, filled her view. In the distance, stretched across the horizon of Daiban, the Damocles clung to its home planet. Where Samus had been first bound to this world now was forced to hide behind it. There was nary a thought in her head as sweet as knowing she was free of this planet, even if it was for a short time.

The ship's radio gave off a short beep, signaling an incoming transmission. Samus tuned to the radio frequency used by Federation ships and listened as a distant, unseen ship communicated with her.

"Unidentified vessel, please transmit your identity code. We are standing by."

It was a routine message which Samus responded to with as much a routine manner as possible. She finished transmitting the faked identification and awaited a response.

"All good to go, Miss Wyland. Proceed."

And with that, Samus was free of Daiban. She set the ship for hypermode and plotted her course according to the plan she had mapped out before falling asleep. Before she could investigate the coordinates given to her, she would need a recon-operational vehicle. Something built for this mission. There was one planet close enough to the coordinates within Federation space she could go to, a large gas planet named Vetaxa. If Daiban was the galaxy's bustling metropolitan, Vetaxa was the seedy underbelly. There one could find all manner of goods, even those not sanctioned by the government.

Inputting Vetaxa as her destination, Samus relaxed. She had time to kill before her ship would reach the planet as a D-Class ship wouldn't be nearly the speed of a Hunter-Class gunship. The estimated time of arrival was four hours. The time was spent plotting out possible courses of action. She understood her mission was purely to gather information, but in her experience a mission rarely ever went smoothly.

Images of Space Pirates floated through her mind, and she remembered a mantra from her foster parents. To be prepared was to have already won. Old Bird repeated this to Samus oft in her training. If she were to be the galactic savior, she had to be ready for anything, to have a countermeasure. Possibilities stretched out like river branches in her mind.

The Space Pirates were the most likely suspects. They were known to act in the FS-176 system. They set up bases on Zebes and Talon IV. Even if Samus destroyed their leadership time and time again, any remnant faction could sprout from the remains and overtake the previous. New leadership, new enemies. Taking out small passing ships was well within their range, but taking out an Olympus-Class battleship required they either have numbers or technology. There wasn't enough time for them to shore up numbers, they had to have new technology. Something that could shut down the _Aegir_ 's systems.

Samus listed any possible technology that could be used against the _Aegir_. EMPs or viruses were most likely. With the Aurora Unit shut down, it would simply be a matter of boarding the ship. Pirates wouldn't leave without either capturing the crew or stealing whatever technology was available. Then they'd take it back to their base of operations. Talon IV was the obvious choice. They'd be familiar with the terrain, and it was the only inhabitable planet left in the solar system.

Thoughts ebbed from her mind as her body relaxed and entered a meditative state. More ideas flowed through her, each tangible for a moment but relinquished as a new idea took its place. In four hours, an entire day's planning would commence.

When Samus' eyes opened, her ship was exiting hyperspace. As the stars unstretched around her and new constellations formed, she took note of the gas giant that lay ahead of her, glowing a deep, hazy purple. Vetaxa was a resource rich planet that was too dangerous for the Galactic Federation to mine. Those who were brave enough, or foolish enough, came to this planet seeking their fortune. If Daiban was the center of Federation approved business, Vetaxa was its counterpart. A refuge for the seedy and underhanded.

Dotting the spacescape above Vetaxa was several colonies of varying sizes and shapes, pasted together from scraps by the inhabitants. One formed an uneven ring that rotated slowly on its axis. Samus piloted her ship towards it, finding a small port along the side that opened to inside the the structure. The landing pads were small, rased metal circles that dotted the inside of the structure.

There were few lifeforms in the port. A few humanoids and alien creatures huddled around a ship on the opposite side, but Samus had little reason to pay them any mind. When Samus landed the ship, none of them noticed. She exited her ship in a hurry and moved to the inner workings of the ring. These structures were similar to Space Pirate vessels in that they were labrynthine. Cramped corridors and low lights. All power was doled out with meticulous precision. Not a watt could go to waste; no expense was spared.

Samus found what she was looking for when she stepped into a small section of the ring with a glowing sign that read, "The Ring's Corner". It was a bar, or an equivalent. The place was run by an alien named Yzheti. Samus had run into him numerous times early in her career. He was an informant for several agencies and businesses interested in the going-ons of a resource rich planet. He stood behind an elongated metal table, with a shelf of metal flasks and glass bottles behind him. The alien was humanoid enough, bipedal with two arms, two eyes, all the right features. What set him apart from most humans was his bright pink skin and keratin deposits all along his skin. They looked like horns.

Yzheti was serving a guest when Samus walked in and didn't notice her. The flickering light produced by the broken fixtures gave the room a dingy atmosphere. Something Samus was certain he did on purpose. As she walked up to the bar, the guest Yzheti was serving turned around and leaned onto the table. He was a big man. Human, just an inch over Samus' height, and burly. The man's eyes and nose were tinted red, and his speech was slurred out.

"Haven't seen you here before."

Samus ignored the man and placed her hand on the table. Yzheti stare her down and grabbed a flask off the table, handing it to her. Samus took the flask and inspected it for a moment before downing the entire thing.

"Bastard," she spat under her breath and placed the flask on the table. "Haven't seen each other in years and you give me the cheap stuff?"

The pink alien gave a throaty laugh and slammed his hands onto the table. "Don't drink the pure stuff?"

Samus grimaced. "I don't drink piss, either." She slid the flask over to him and leaned onto the table. "I'm not here for drinks." Yzheti's demeanor changed at this and he leaned in.

"Too bad, I could use the small fortune," he whispered with a toothy grin. "So what do you need?"

"A ship."

"A ship? Aye, that I can do."

"Reconnaissance ready?"

"Stealth features, high-class artillery, probably illegal in several sectors. The usual."

Samus smiled and threw her head back. Things were falling into place.

"Just go out to the port. They're holding a bit of an auction. I'll send them word that a wealthy buyer is heading out. You'll get your ship."

Samus nodded along. In the corner of her vision, she saw a hand reaching for her. Before it could land anywhere, she had already caught it. The burly man seemed surprised by the forceful grasp and let out a yelp before Samus let go. He grabbed his hand and backed away, and Samus diverted her attention back to the bartender.

"Touchy," he remarked.

"That was his problem." She turned away from the bar and headed for the exit, waving off Yzheti. "Put that flask on my credit. You know the account." And she was off.

Back at the port, the crowd had not dispersed. A ship had just been sold, and the customer was piloting it off from the pedestal as a new ship was brought it. This was it. A blue and black Hunter-Class gunship. The design was sleek and ovular, a rounded windshield with small propulsion jets lining the underside so it hovered off the ground. Samus pierced the crowd, standing head and shoulders above most of the individuals within as they all eyed the craft. One individual, a thin insectoid alien, stood by the ship with a small device hanging by its mandibles. It spoke an alien language into the device and it transmitted into the Federation's official language: human English.

"We have a beautiful ship here! A Hunter-Class gunship! Not only are its weapon systems top of the line, including missile targeting systems and laser-guided plasma cannon, but it also has state-of-the-art stealth shielding! Brought to you by our good friends, the Kriken empire." The crowd grew into a raucous echo of boos and hisses at their mention. The alien seemed to feed off this anger and only grew more energized as it spoke. "Built by the best salvagers and engineers outside of Federation space – and outside of their taxes, too – there's nothing this ship can't do. It'll keep you safe wherever you want to go, and it will get you there fast!" It pointed to the ship, and the crowd cheered. Numerous people shouted offers ranging from paltry to exorbitant.

"Let's start the bidding at-" The alien paused with dramatic flair. "-500,000 credits! Do we have any takers?"

The crowd grew silent. Murmurs between patrons seemed confused by the price. Samus understood it well and raised her hand. The alien pointed at her and said into his device, "I hear 500,000 credits! Will anyone raise her? 600,000? Do we have any takers for 600,000? Going once." No one said anything. "Going twice." Absolute silence. The crowd's attention focused on Samus and she tensed. Any hint that the auction was manipulated would throw the crowd into chaos and violence. "And sold to the lovely human over there!"

The crowd roared with excitement. Samus began walking towards the landing platform when a voice called out from outside the crowd.

"Rigged!" the voice called out. "The whole thing!"

Samus turned and saw standing ten meters away the man from the bar, waving his hands angrily as he stumbled his way towards the crowd.

"I heard them in the bar talking about it. The whole thing! Make the price too high for anyone to pay, give 'em a discount when they actually pay, I know the score!"

Samus bit her lower lip as the man raved. He was a drunk, but if his words were taken with any degree of seriousness this spelt trouble. Looking into the crowd, there seemed to be a mixed reception. Not knowing the colony well enough to gauge what their reaction would be, Samus made this quick and bolted towards the platform. With a quick hop, she was atop the ship. The crowd was too stunned to respond, and Samus was too far out of their reach for her to be in any danger. The drunk man pushed his way through the crowd and waved his hand.

"She broke my hand!"

It appeared swollen, but Samus was certain she hadn't used enough force to break any bones. The crowd was turning sour. Her sudden movements and his hand may have had a sinister appearance. As long as she had her ship, however, there was no reason for her to worry.

The auction host continued to control the crowd as Samus descended into the ship's cockpit through the topside hatch. She could see the rumble as patrons questioned the auctioneer, but she was already activating the holographic interface. This was her comfort zone, and as she navigated the menu and activated the thrusters, she felt the steady vibrations roll through the ship. These thrusters were Class-A, quiet and powerful. She smirked and with a flick of her wrist activated the main thrusters. Her new ship flew and the throng of people grew smaller as her ship left the port.

The ship's stealth mode, Samus learned, was as high-tech as they claimed. Using reverse-engineered Kriken technology, the ship could bend light around itself. It was not a perfect design, as the light bent around the ship gave a telltale shimmer upon closer inspection, but combined with a low-heat signature it made the ship nigh undetectable to most technologies. She put in coordinates for FS-176 and entered hyperspace. The ship estimated time of arrival was fifteen minutes. Enough time to calibrate the weapons systems and her power armor. She would be prepared.

The calibrations were completed with two minutes to spare, and when her ship exited hyperspace, she was met with the familiar solar system of FS-176. The Chozo affectionately called this star, "Teth Mahdra", translating roughly to "Life Giver". It was a yellow dwarf, surrounded by four planets. From her ship, the distant Oormine II was visible as a blue speck.

Being here for the first time since her mission to Zebes, Samus felt a ping of nostalgia. She tilted her head to the side and thought of the open skies of her adoptive home. Nostalgia, followed by pained memories of the Space Pirate invasions. Samus distracted herself by reading the ship's navigation controls. Her course was set to the last known coordinates of the GFS _Aegir_. She couldn't be distracted now, she was on a mission. She steadied herself and concentrated, activating her power suit with a thought as she piloted her way closer to the star.

Something was wrong.

Something was incredibly wrong.

The holographic interface glowed red and an alert message popped up on her suit's HUD.

"COURSE CORRECTION REQUIRED IMMEDIATELY!"

Samus scanned the ship's interface to find the error. She had flown countless ships and charted numerous courses. She had the coordinates of the GFS _Aegir's_ last known position. What was dangerous about this course?

The next words to pop up on her HUD were ominous and brief.

"ERROR: UNIDENTIFIED VARIABLE."

Followed by a direct confirmation.

"ERROR: GRAVITATIONAL PULL GREATER THAN EXPECTED."

Something was pulling on her ship. Samus rerouted power from the ship's stealth and weapons to its scanning features. Radars, heat detection, everything that was available. Then her ship rocked. She barley had time to gather her bearings as she clutched her seat. Something had hit her ship.

"SECONDARY THRUSTER OFFLINE."

Samus cursed and rerouted power back to her weapons as she spun the ship around. A stream of plasma blasts flew through space towards her ship. With minimal time to maneuver, Samus spun her ship in a corkscrew and fired her plasma cannons. Though she couldn't see her target, they'd given their general position away by attacking her.

She poured power into the main thrusters and followed her plasma blast, closing the distance between herself and whoever was attacking. Radar wasn't picking anything up. Neither was heat.

Another plasma blast rocked her ship, and Samus growled in anger as warnings flashed across her visor. The ship's shielding was weakened. It had taken a direct hit, and it likely wouldn't survive another. Thirty-seven, sixteen, nineteen. Samus read the approximate coordinates of the attack on her HUD. With the ship turning towards it, she fired another bolt of plasma.

Dogfighting in space was not Samus' forte, it was an awkward and impractical affair that favored powerful, militarized ships and higher technology. Whoever her opponent was, they had the edge.

The second shot careened in the distance, its bright light giving a distinctive glint on her radar at around 800 kilometers. Samus fired again, adjusting her shot for that glint, then fired several more times in that area. Most of the shots faded into black, but one landed. The shimmering outline of a corvette-sized ship became visible on her radar. Samus locked onto the target and closed the gap between them. As it became visible to her field of view, she noticed that it was not returning fire.

The ship floated in space, visible and unmoving. It gave Samus time to study its design. Black and pointed, with purple and golden trims along the sides. It was wide, with an aquiline snout at its front. The design was familiar. Samus got a clear view of the ship, and her eyes widened as the thought settled into her mind. Before she could react to it, the enemy ship pulled back, beckoning her to follow. Samus did, only realizing too late that it had trapped her.

More ships appeared from space as if ghosts. Behind her, above her, below her, and to all sides. Plasma built at the nose of each. There were several dozen, all aimed at her. She couldn't dodge them all. The only way out was through.

She activated the ship's missile launcher and aimed for the ship in front of her. Its shielding would be weakest. Then she rerouted power from the plasma cannon to her main thruster. This ship was about to be put through hell.

She activated the missile launcher. The metal tubes poured from the underbelly of her vessel, dozens each aimed for a single target. She followed the missiles, redirecting any energy spared from the missile systems to her thrusters.

"WARNING: SHIELDING IS CRITICAL."

Her shields were almost gone. The missiles had hit their target, blowing the enemy to chunks of meat and metal in a soundless explosion that reverberated through her ship. Through the flames of combusting fuel gel and shrapnel, she forced herself to fly, followed by streams of plasma in all directions. She rolled her ship to avoid what damage she could, bu found most of the plasma had arced away from her ship.

"UNIDENTIFIED VARIABLE."

"Not again!" Samus screamed, slamming her fist into the chair's arm. Her ship was veering off course. Stars bent around her ship and outside the windshield Samus could see that shimmer once more. It was everywhere. Her entire field of view became a kaleidoscope of varying degrees of light, molding and shifting around her. Soon the light settled into a gray-black gradient as ashen clouds in the distance pushed against the sky. The planet beneath her unsheathed itself, and Samus could think of nothing. She had not prepared for this.

She was going to crash on Zebes.


End file.
